


Strange Love

by kyl_ohno_ren



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 13:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8753050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyl_ohno_ren/pseuds/kyl_ohno_ren
Summary: After kissing Alana Bloom, Will has to confront his feelings for Mischa Lecter.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is an excerpt of a later chapter in a story I'm writing called Quid Pro Quo. Quid Pro Quo goes through the series episode by episode and answers the question: what is Mischa Lecter was around? This excerpt is meant to gauge interest in the story, so please let me know what you think :)

            Will can’t explain what led him to drive well over an hour to Hannibal’s house in Baltimore. An instinctive compulsion to seek out a friend maybe? No, not a friend. He and Hannibal are not friends. It doesn’t matter how deep their discussions are or how pulled toward the doctor Will is. They. Are. Not. Friends.

            _So why am I knocking at his door after nine o’clock at night?_

            _I kissed Alana Bloom._

_Why does Hannibal need to know that?_

_Because-_

            “Will?”

            _Because I wished it had been_ her _instead._

Will looks down at Mischa, finding himself smiling despite the rolling sea of emotions in his chest. She has the most calming effect on him. She makes him feel level-headed. Sane. Mischa makes him feel wanted and appreciated and just… _good_. Happy. Normal. Like there’s nothing wrong inside his head.

            “Hi Mischa.” He flinches at the sound of his voice. Anxious. High strung.

            _She’ll know what happened. She’s just as intuitive as her brother._

_Clever as the devil and twice as pretty._

            That last thought is in Hannibal’s voice. He’d said it in their first conversation about Mischa. “ _What is that saying, Will? Ah, yes, clever as the devil and twice as pretty._ That _is the most accurate description of my sister.”_ My, mine, that’s also how Hannibal describes Mischa. His.

            _Mine?_

_No._

            Will shakes his head, wanting the voices to stop long enough for him to have a semi-normal conversation.

            “Would you like me to get Hannibal for you?”

            “Yes.”

            _No!_

Mischa seems to know what’s happening inside Will’s mind. She always knows and she always takes care of him. Even now as he’s standing in front of her looking guilty as sin she takes his hand, leading him to the tastefully done living room. Her movements are slow, meticulous, and well thought out. Like he’s some skittish baby deer that’ll bolt at the first sudden sound or movement. She isn’t completely wrong. Will wants nothing more than to turn and leave. Forget he came, forget he kissed Alana, forget the way he wondered if Mischa’s lips were just as soft.

            _Softer. Look._

He does. His eyes follow the delicate curves of her lips. They’re full and beautiful, painted a dark almost purple-ish red that matches her dress perfectly. There’s no way her lips won’t feel like rose petals. Everything about Mischa is soft.

            “You are incredibly stupid for driving so far in this condition, Will.”

            Well, almost everything about Mischa is soft. Her tongue can be sharp and scathing most of the time.

            “And what condition would that be?”

            “Dazed, confused, completely out of it. Take your pick of any synonym.”

            “What would the medical term be?”

            “I am not your psychiatrist. You will have to ask Hannibal about that.”

            “You went to that fancy University in Denmark though.” Will sits on the couch as a wave of vertigo washes over him. He’s had no food today and his stomach growls loudly.

            Mischa smiles fondly at Will. “Yes, but I studied business.”

            He doesn’t answer her. Instead he watches the way the corners of her eyes crinkle when her grin finally reaches them. He watches the way the blue of her eyes swims with the green and gold, creating a whirlpool that sucks him deep inside. He could get lost in her eyes if he wanted to. They’re so deep and never ending. Will could stare in to them for hours on end and Mischa would still be an enigma on par with God.

            “You’re beautiful.” Will blurts out. At first he’s horrified. What the actual hell did he just say and why did his brain think that was a good idea? Then he watches the way color creeps in to her cheeks. She’s blushing, looking down at the plush carpet.

            _Good. Mine._

_No, Hannibal’s. Hannibal’s sister. Off limits, off limits, off-_

            Will’s entire body goes rigid when Misha’s lips brush against his cheek. “Thank you, Will. That’s unnecessarily kind of you.”

            _Soft._

_Shut up!_

_If I just tilt my head a fraction to the side-_

_Don’t!_

Mischa smooths down the wrinkles in her dress created by bending down to Will’s level. Whether she noticed his reaction or not she says nothing, just gives him a quick once over before nodding to herself.

            “You need food. There is dessert in the kitchen. Hannibal had a guest that unfortunately left before everything was eaten. I will bring it _and Hannibal_ to you. Stay here.” She moves to leave and Will takes a deep breath, the air smelling like raspberries. Like Mischa.

            “Don’t.”

            “What?”

            Will grabs her hand. “Don’t leave.”

            “You need-”

            “I don’t find myself hungry for food and your brother always seems to know where I am. I’m sure he’s already aware of the fact I’m here.” Will pulls her down until she’s forced to straddle his waist, her dress riding up to showcase her creamy thighs. He breathes in again trying to calm his racing heart. Even through layer after layer of clothing he can feel the warmth of her skin. Will places his hands on Mischa’s waist and waits patiently for her to make the next move.

            When she does his heart shatters.

            “You do not want me, Will.”

            “I do!” He argues vehemently.

            “No, you want to feel normal, and with the right medication you can. I am not medication.”

            Will holds her tighter. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but what you fail to realize is there _is no_ normal for me even with medication. I want you.”

            “The same way you wanted Alana Bloom?” Her adoring smile from earlier turns cynical and vaguely angry. “Your face is an open book and Hannibal hides nothing from me. I know things, Will.”

            He laughs bitterly. “You know nothing. I love you!”

            “Oh?” Her expression reminds Will so much of Hannibal that he wants to scream at her to stop psychoanalyzing him. “You may think you do, but I doubt the sincerity.”

            “I’ve never been more sincere in my life! The only reason I kissed her was because-” Will looks to his right only to meet the eyes of his doctor and not-friend Hannibal. He knows the position is a compromising one but can’t make himself care.

            Mischa follows his gaze and stands in one smooth motion. The roll of her hips against his as she got up left Will moaning desperately.

            _Embarrassing._

_I don’t care. Do it again._

_She’s gone._

Will’s eyes are shut tight and he’s so focused on willing the arousal away that he misses Mischa say, “Fix this before we have another Franklyn on our hands, brother dear.”

            “For you, anything.” Hannibal kisses her on the forehead tenderly, her side brushing against his as she exits the living room. “Do you know how many men have believed themselves in love with my sister, Will?”

            “I imagine thousands.”

            “So you understand her trepidation?”

            “What should I do?”

            Hannibal considers Will’s position for a moment. The Special Agent is clearly desperate for Mischa just as Hannibal intended. The only problem is Mischa herself. She knows nothing of the game being played. Maybe it’s past time to let her know.

            “Convince her you are not like the others.”

            “How?”

            “Speak with her. Be frank about your intentions and feelings. Mischa admires honesty and courage above all.”

            “You’ll help me?”

            “Of course, Will.”


End file.
